About Chadron B. Land

Chadron is a brawny, strapping Varisian lad. Despite his large frame, the armor he normally carries by wearing, and the several weapons strapped about him, his demeanor is pleasant and open - if sometimes a bit brash. Chadron's dark auburn hair, brown eyes, and olive complexion mark his Varisian heritage. His full, medium length, squared-off beard reflect a more rural sensibility. But despite the simple functionality of his clothes, several signs hint at ongoing Varisian connections - a bright orange belt sash, a small gold earring, a gold chain on his left wrist, and light embroidery at cuff and collar of his tunic.

Chaldron's got a smile and a handshake for everyone he meets. He also persists in assuming that everyone he meets is a friend he just isn't well acquainted with yet.

Combat Expertise +/-1 Bonus to AC in exchange for an equal penalty to attack.
Defiant Luck (1/day) Reroll a natural 1 on a save, or force a reroll of a critical hit confirmation roll.
Heart of the Fields +0: Profession (Farmer) (1/day) 1/day, ignore an effect that would make you fatigued or exhausted. +1/2 character level to the selected Craft or Profession skill.
Monster Hunter +1 attack & damage against aberrations & magical beasts.
Power Attack -1/+2 You can subtract from your attack roll to add to your damage.
Saving Shield As an immediate action, add a +2 shield bonus to an adjacent ally's AC.
Shield Focus +1 Shield AC

Background: Overview:

Chadron was raised as a dirt-scrabble farmer in the Bloodsworn Vale, on the border with Cheliax. Chadron turns out to be quite a good farmer, brawny and hardy. But throughout his life he has yearned for more. He drilled and patrolled with the local militia. He gained an opportunity to learn some real horsemanship, beyond what a down-at-heel farmer normally has opportunity for. He equipped himself. He listened, and he learned.

When he came of age, and his younger sister married another member of the militia (one from a large family), Chadron took an opportunity to cash out of the farm, finish equipping himself, and set out into the world. He has heard rumors of giants stirring in the hills, goblins and strange monsters in Sandpoint. Chadron has made his way to Sandpoint.

But don't misread. Chadron is in it for the after-adventure drinks. Magic is good. Gold is good. Glory is great. But mostly because glory makes the drinks flow, the lads tell tales, and the ladies very friendly.

Background: Early Lessons:

The 7-year-old Chadron blinked back tears as his mother, Marduet, washed dirt from the scrapes on his face. "Yes Chadron, Garghad did call you a dirty Varisian thief. And that was wrong. I know you're big for your age, but Garghad is three years older than you, and he was fathered by a back country orc. It was unwise to attack him. It tarnished the spirit of this barn raising for Garghad's family. Between now and harvest, your father and I want you to find a way to work with him - even make him your friend. His mother and stepfather, though Chelish, are neighbors in the Vale. Now go and shake his hand while I prepare some of our Valisian dances for tonight."

At the next harvest, Chadron convinced Neila, Garghad's mother, to dragoon Garghad and Chadron into helping him set up games for the feast day. For the younger men, they organized wrestling, axe-tossing, and running races. For the younger children, egg relays and three-legged races. Though Garghad was initially reluctant, working together to lay out courses, gather materials, and set sign-ups brought a level of mutual respect. Chadron lost a wrestling match with Garghad, but he did win a pat on the back from his father, and a warm, knowing smile from his mother.

Background: Armor, a mule for some armor!:

Chadron remonstrated with his father. Eccelsron Land was a more mature version of his strapping son. Dark auburn hair framed a a dark-skinned square face and deep brown eyes. His chest deep, his shoulders broad, many mistook him for a smith. But his strength came from years of hard farming - pulling tree stumps, ploughing fields, wielding a scythe at harvest - along with, as for many men in the Bloodsworn Vale, occasional sword and spear practice with the Vale Militia. Eccelsron looked aside at his wife, Marduet. Marduet was still willowy, with classic Varisian features and long, jet black hair. She met his gaze.

"Chadron, you're asking us to trade the mule for a suit of armor, solely so you can take leave the Vale." Chadron drew breath to interrupt, but Eccelsron gently held up his hand. "I know it is the way of our people to find a life on the roads - but a weighty and expensive suit of scale mail is not part of that tradition. In the militia we hold armor and weapons to defend the people of Bloodsworn Vale. We don't own these things in our own right. and... the mule?"

Chadron said, "Father, we both know the militia needs pack animals. And when the militia needs them, you'll be with the militia anyway. You won't be pulling stumps while chasing marauding orcs from the Vale. We also both know the militia will loan you back the mule when stumps need pulling." Chadron drew a deep breath, "You know I've been preparing for years to take to the road - and on my own terms. Both mother and Aunt Geselle have seen that there is something for me on the Lost Coast. Loenet has married Greigor, and they can help work the farm here. Father, let me find my road."

"It is in the Harrows," said Marduet gently. "The Harrows said nothing about my mule!" harumphed Eccelsron. The gleam in his eye made first Marduet, then Chadron chuckle. Then as the stern set of Eccelsron's expression cracked, they all burst out laughing.

Background: The Road West:

Chadron grinned at Kevan as the older man prepared to mount. Chadron said, "It has been a great pleasure, 'uncle'," (though Kevan was not his uncle, but instead a distant cousin). Kevan replied, "I look forward to next time we travel the same road. You're certain your road lies further west? Grandmother says there are omens of conflict there - ancient conflicts awakened anew."

"Yes uncle, my road leads that way. Your caravan follows safer ways, living off the land and the rubes."

Chadron watched the caravan head north from Ilsurian. He reflected briefly on the road so far. From his home in the Bloodsworn Vale, he walked out of the Vale to the city of Korvosa. From his sheltered life in the the Bloodsworn Vale, Korvosa seemed an unimaginably complex place, full of rules and taxes and harsh enforcements. Chadron's first strong impression, as he entered the Eodred's Walk, was a city executioner removing a thief's hand, then branding a unionist. Chadron found that his olive complexion and even his (relatively) subdued traveling clothes marked him as a 'moth' - a Varisian, and inherently suspect. He rapidly found an exit from Korvosa.

Chadron quickly found a berth on a short-hopping coast-lugger. Although his clothes and accent - and the family tattooes on his shoulders once he'd taken off his shirt - marked him out as Varision, his fellow crewmen on the Targon's Landing were no two alike. Chadron's natural lugubriousness, good cheer, and willingness to work hard soon put him in good stead with the crew - despite his utter lack of experience as a sailor. Chadron crewed with the Targon's Landing as far as Palin's Cove. A few weeks on the sea gave him opportunity to truly appreciate the novel experience. Chadron didn't find sailing unpleasant, but he'd had enough to understand that there was no brine in his blood.

From Palin's Cove Chadron walked north to Baslwief. In Baslwief, Chadron encountered Kevan and his Varisian caravan of entertainers. After establishing bone fides and extended family relationships, Chadron found a place in the caravan. Although not an entertainer, and not a fortune teller, Chadron worked hard setting up and tearing down, and kept good order among the patrons. His positive attitude and comeraderie helped speed the work, and ease tensions with the audiences. Chadron found himself sometimes at odds with his Varisian comrades in their disdain of the farmers and townsfolk - but he also came to experience the locals' prejudice and disrespect of the Varisians.

Kevan's caravan made a meandering way across the plains and through the Ashwood. During the several weeks, Chadron came to appreciate the way of the People of the Road in ways not available to him in the Bloodsworn Vale. Chadron's fathers' family had taken several generations rest from the road, but his mother's Cardren clan was in the world. North of Biston, Kevan's caravan encountered another Varisian caravan that counted clan Cardren among its members. Family shawls - kapenia - were compared. Tales were exchanged. Although Chadron's presence was cause for celebration, the centerpiece of the meeting of the caravans was a wedding between one of Kevan's nieces and a member of the Cardren clan.

With only a day's preparation, Chadron scrambled for a wedding gift. He eventually bargained with a local farmer for two sacks of fine ground flour, and a butterfly (symbol of Desna) of woven grain sheafs. Though not as colorful, as spectacular, as many of the Varisian wedding gifts, the couple praised their practicality and the representation of the pastoral Land families. The Grandmother of Kevan's caravan said later, "I have never seen one of Desna's butterflies in the golds and browns of grain. It is unusual, but kindly you to invoke the Goddess's blessing. It augurs," with a slight emphasis, "for a fruitful, progressive, and happy marriage. Thank you."

Shaking off his revery, Chadron idly rubbed his two newest tattoos - a golden butterfly clinging to a family vine between his left shoulder and pectoral, and opposite, below his right shoulder, a blooming sunflower in a wagon wheel. As he set off toward the road to Whistledown, he called to a passing merchant, "Friend - I'm headed to points west - shall we walk together?"